


Family Doesn't Always Have to be Related.

by nephilicreaper



Category: Team Fortress 2, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Dismemberment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, set in the 1970's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephilicreaper/pseuds/nephilicreaper
Summary: What if, when Scout died, he didn't go to Heaven. What if, he dreamed of people that he has never met before. Now his wounds heal by themselves and he still has dreams of these people; the lovers, the alcoholic, and the woman. He can't seem to get them out of his mind. His teammates notice something is up, but they are too focused on more important matters since they finished off the TFC's and the machines. What can Scout do to believe that he's not going crazy.Meanwhile the four members of The Old Guard have just had a dream of a new Immortal. They need to find him before someone discovers that he can't die.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Old Guard or Team Fortress 2.  
> Read the end notes for more information.

He sees a woman. Tall, with short brown hair. Her blue green eyes are hard and weary as she cleans a strange looking axe.

He sees a middle aged blonde male. The man’s eyes are bloodshot as he lifts a silver flask up to his mouth.

He sees two men, a little older than him. One is curly hair and a trimmed beard. He is staring lovingly into the eyes of a slightly shorter male with a strong nose.

He is underwater now, in some sort of metal coffin. Someone is in there, banging on the coffin, demanding to be let out. She dies soon after.

Scout wakes up in pain. He glances down, searching for the source. His fingers ghost over a large soaking wet spot on the side of his shirt. When he removes his hand, it comes away red. It smelled like blood. He lets in a small breath and looks around. The floor was littered with robot parts. He recognizes the head of the spybot that had struck the lucky shot that killed him. It was sitting right next to him.

_ Killed me,  _ He thought.  _ Then, why am I still livin’?  _ He looks up a little higher. Up ahead, he sees a naked Sniper and an injured Spy. He looked away, for fear of being caught ogling the slightly older Aussie.

Spy. Scout remembered the older man holding him as he died. The Frenchman had disguised himself as Scout’s idol, as if Scout couldn’t notice. Scout wasn’t sure if the guy did it to comfort him, or to hide the older man’s shame of having a son like him. Despite what his teammates believed, Scout wasn’t an idiot. It isn’t that hard to see the similarities between Spy and him.

“Should we bury him?” Sniper asked.

Scout snaps out of his thoughts. He sees the two men start to walk (or limp in Spy’s case), away from him. A surge of panic surged through his slowly numbing body.

“If you’re hiding a shovel, Rinse it off and give it to me.” Spy replied. “I could use a weapon.”

_ No, no, no!  _ He thought.  _ Don’t leave me here to die.  _ He lifts his shaking, bloodstained hand and opens his mouth, trying to say  _ something _ that would get the men's attention. All that came out was a small cough.

Apparently, that small cough was all that he needed. The two men stopped walking and turned around. Spy had a look of disgust on his face, causing Scout to almost flinch in shame. Sniper on the other hand had a look of wonder on his face.

“Well, I’ll be...”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Spy spat as he clutched onto his makeshift crutch.

Despite the older man’s reactions, Spy refused to let Scout walk by himself. Sniper offered to help the younger man, but Spy shot the Aussie’s offer down. Instead, Spy would only let Scout lean on him for support as they walked out of the building in search of their team.

Scout had tried to refuse, saying that he was fine enough to walk out of there. He wasn’t lying. Sure, when he first woke up, it felt like his body was in pure agony, specifically his side where he was hit by the Spybot. Now though, he felt okay. Better than okay actually. Yeah he felt exhausted but his side didn’t hurt anymore. In fact, he’s pretty sure that it’s stopped bleeding.

Spy wasn’t having it. He told the younger one it was either he accepts the Frenchman’s help, or Sniper goes searching for Heavy and they have the Russian carrying him out.

So that’s how Scout found himself with his right arm over the shoulder of the father who left before Scout was even born. It was supposed to be Scout leaning his weight on the other man but it ended up being the opposite as he carries most of Spy’s weight by the time they reach the exit. It was a little awkward given that he was shorter than the older man.

Throughout that, Sniper walked on Scout’s left, keeping up casual conversation with them. Scout had to focus on keeping his gaze in front of him, trying to not check his teammate out. Spy’s only contribution to the conversation was a few grunts here and there.

When they reached the rest of RED, Scout had to stop himself from covering his eyes as Soldier and Zhanna were still naked and covered in honey. Miss. Pauling looked like she just wanted the world to end as she walked off on her own. The rest of his teammates were scattered around the field, either talking to each other, or in Demo’s case, drowning themselves in a bottle of scrumpy.

The man with the bloodshot eyes flashed in his mind. Scout flinched and stared at his drunk teammate with concern. Spy must have noticed the flinch as the older man soon drags him toward a couple of crates marked with a word that Scout couldn’t read. He wanted to say that it had something to do with medicine, but he couldn’t tell. The letters were moving around too much for him to be able to make heads or tails of it.

Spy ushers him toward one of the crates. “Sit.” Too tired to argue, Scout sits down and watches Spy dig through the other crate while trying to not bend his band leg. Sniper, standing next to Scout, watches over the two as worried that someone would come and finish them off.

“Seriously man,” Scout starts as Spy pulls out a couple of first aid kits. “I’m fine. You should use that on yourself.” His accent was a bit thicker than usual as he tried to fight off a yawn.

Spy ignores him. Instead, he opens up one of the kits, pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He reaches into a pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief.“ Lift up your shirt.”

Scout grinned, “Sorry man, but I’m not from the South.” He doesn’t think that the Frenchman understood his joke as the older man just looks at him with a rare look of confusion. Sniper must have understood as the naked man soon doubles over in uncontrolled laughter.

Spy scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Mon dieu. Just shut up and take off your shirt. I need to see your wound. And you, Bushman,” He turns his attention to Sniper, “Go put on some fucking clothes.”

Sniper flashes them a grin, as he stands back up and walks off in search of clothes. Scout wants to make another comment but, seeing the irritated expression on Spy’s face, he chose not to. Best not to get anymore on Spy’s bad side than he already was. He chooses to take off his shirt.

Spy gets to work, pouring some of the alcohol onto the handkerchief. He bends his upper torso down and takes the cloth to Scout’s bloody side. He gently starts cleaning the area. It was weird how the older man was taking care of him when just yesterday, Spy wanted nothing to do with him. Scout closes his eyes. He can’t help but remember the woman, her eyes hard as she gently cleaned that strange weapon. He flinched again. He didn’t understand why he had dreamed up people that he had never met before.

Spy must have taken his flinch for one of pain as the already gentle scrubs turn almost nonexistent. To be honest, if it wasn’t for the smell, Scout would have thought that the man was using water. He didn’t feel the familiar sting that one would when using the alcohol to clean open wounds. His skin felt weird, but that was it. Maybe years of exposure to the medigun and respawn did something to his body.

Spy’s hand stopped, an unreadable expression on his masked face. He stares down at Scout’s abdomen. “Turn around.” He orders, standing back up.

“What?” Scout asked. “Why?”

“Just do it before I call Heavy over and have him move you for me.”

Scout crossed his arms with a huff, “Alright, Alright. Prick.” He dodges the hand aimed for the back of his head and stands up. He turns around so that his back is now facing Spy. His face heats up in embarrassment. He’s not used to people staring at him while he’s half naked. He can hear Spy humming something behind him. “What?” He asked.

“Take off your pants.”

“What?” Scout turned around in shock. “No!”

“Do it or I’ll get-”

“I don’t care who you get, bastard. I don’t want to show off my junk.”

Spy smirked, “Not even if I call over Miss Pauling?”

Scout gritted his teeth, trying to not hit the other man. “No. I don’t care if you call her, or the president over. I’m not strippin’ any further that I have.”

Spy waves his hand as if trying to wave away Scout’s anger. “Fine. Fine. I assume that you didn’t actually get hurt down there anyway. Now let me ask you this.” He leans close enough that their noses were almost touching. “How did you do it?”

Scout was confused now, “ Did what?”

“How did you make it convincing?” Scout frowned not understanding what Spy meant. “ Your fake death.” Spy said.

“My what?” Scout was shocked now. He backs away. “What do mean, fake?”

Spy moves his arm towards Scout’s side. “There is no wound,” Spy explains.

Shocked, Scout moved his hands to his abdomen, searching for the cut that the Spy Bot had given him. He didn’t feel anything. Just smooth skin. He looks back up at Spy, who was giving him an unimpressed look as he continued.

“So obviously, you faked your death for some idiotic joke. Most likely to humiliate me. I just want to know though, where did you get all the blood for your little stunt. Last I checked, there weren't any blood caches anywhere on the island.”

Scout stared at Spy, letting the man’s words soak into his tired brain. “I-I-I d- I don't understand,” He stammers. He didn’t know what was going on.”I know I was hurt. I felt that bot stab me,” He explained, trying to get the other man to understand.

Spy didn’t look convinced. “I’m serious,” Scout continued. “I felt you holding me in your arms when I died. You had disguised yourself as Tom Jones. And then, before I woke back up, I dreamt these people and-”

“Merde, Scout!” Spy yelled. He was so angry that Scout could have sworn that he saw steam coming out of the man’s ears. “Will you stop with these fucking games and act your age?!” He shakes his head and limps away before Scout could say anything.

Lost, Scout watched him go. He shoves his hands into his pant’s pockets and kicks at the dirt, “I’m not messing around,” He whispers to himself. He shakes his head and looks at the rest of his team. He decides to take a walk and clear his head, not caring about whatever Spy does next.  _ Let him tell everyone whatever he wants,  _ he thinks.  _ They already think badly of me anyway. _

He walks around the side of the building, sticking close to the walls. He lets himself breathe in the fresh air as his thoughts turn down a dangerous path to unwanted territory. He takes in a deep breath, and then another. Furious with himself, he punches the wall with his left hand. He puts all his weight into it trying to get rid of the rage settled deep within him.

**Snap**

He cries out in pain, clutching his hand to his chest. He looks at the wall. There wasn’t a single scratch or mark. He looks down at his hand and sees the bumps trying to break through his skin. He tries to bend his fingers, but they won’t move and all he feels is pain. He doesn’t have to be Medic to know that he broke his hand.

“Dammit.” He hisses. He crouches down, staring at his broken hand. No wonder everyone hates him. He can never do anything right. He’s always acting without thinking. Now, he has to go back to the others and waste everyone’s time because the bones are moving.

Wait, what?

He watches with bated breath as the bones in his hand start to move. They move around until eventually, they settle back into their original place. It was gross to watch, but his hand didn’t look broken anymore. He tries to bend his fingers. They move with perfect ease and he doesn’t feel a sharp pain anymore.

“What the fuck?” He murmurs in awe. “That’s not possible.”

“What’s not possible?”

Startled, Scout turns around, hiding his now healed hand behind his back. A fully clothed Sniper stands in front of him, looking both curious and worried.

“Snipes,” Scout starts. “Hey buddy.”

Sniper arches a brow. “Is everything alright there, mate? You’re looking a little peaked there.” He looks at where Scout’s hand should be, “What are you hiding?”

“Huh? Oh.” Scout brings his hand back around, showing the Aussie that he wasn’t hiding anything, “I’m uh, I’m fine, Snipes. Did you need somethin’?”

Sniper pointed a thumb behind him, “We finished off the rest of the classics and machines. You missed Miss Pauling’s big speech. I just came to collect you so that we could get out of here.”

Scout nods, “Right, right.” For a second there, he was tempted to tell Sniper what he just saw, but he didn’t. He already got one teammate mad at him. He didn’t want his only friend here to think that he was playing around. He starts walking over to where everyone else. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Right.” Sniper agreed, though he looked at Scout in concern “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

He dreams of a young man, dying in the arms of a man he’s pretty sure is both famous and dead. The boy is in pain, but he feels at peace as his last breath leaves his thin body.

Nicky wakes up with gasp. He sits up, maneuvering himself out of his husband’s arms as Joe wakes up from the dream as well. “Troppo presto,” Nicky murmurs. “Troppo presto. Yusuf!” He turns around to look his husband in the eyes. “Yusuf-”

“There’s another,” Joe finishes. He rubs his hand through his curly dark locks. “Fuck.”

There’s banging outside their bedroom in the group’s current safehouse. No doubt, Andy and Booker are awake now.

Joe shakes his head, “Dammit. It hasn’t even been two centuries. Why now?”

Nicky smiles, leaning over to give Joe a kiss on the lips, “I don’t know, but everything happens for a reason, tesoro.” He gets out of bed, “We should talk to Andy about what we should do next.”

Joe smiles back, “You’re right as always, habibi.” They get dressed, sneaking a few kisses here and there, before exiting their room. They find the last of their group sitting at the kitchen table. Andy had her head in her hands. Her labrys lay on the table having been cleaned after a long mission. Booker takes a couple of swigs from his flask.

“Morning, Boss.” Joe greets Andy. “Morning Booker.”

“Joe, Nicky.” Andy greets, raising her head to see them. Joe sits down in an empty chair while Nicky heads to the coffee maker. Whatever they were going to do next, they needed the caffeine.

“The new one.” Andy starts as soon as Nicky hands out the mugs of coffee. Joe reaches for a napkin and a pen and starts to draw what he had caught in the dream. “Did anyone catch anything important?” she asked.

“I caught his face,” Booker answered. His voice was raspy as he politely refused the offered beverage, sticking to his whisky. He had short brown hair and blue eyes. Looked like he had bunny teeth as well.”

Joe snorts, “That sounds adorable.” This brought on smiles from the rest of the group.

“The man who held him,” Nicky began as he sat down, nursing his coffee. “The man called him Scout. But he also called him Jeremy. I assume that the first is some sort of designation.”

“Scenery wise, there’s not a lot to go on.” Joe began as he handed Andy the napkin with a very detailed sketch of their newbie. “It looked like they were in some sort of hallway with machine parts everywhere. The man holding him looked like that famous singer that died not too long ago. So, I think the kid was hallucinating. Other than that, I have no idea where he is or who he is.”

“He had dog tags,” Andy stated, “However, I couldn’t get a good glimpse of them.” She hums as her blue green eyes take in Joe’s sketch. “Dammit. He looks too young to be stuck like us.” She shakes her head, and looks at the others. “We can’t leave by himself. One of us is going to have to find him.”

“I’ll do it,” Nicky volunteered.

Andy raised a brow, a playful smirk grew on her ageless face, “Oh? Why? Trouble in paradise? You do realize that you’ll have to go by yourself. Joe won’t be able to go with you.” Booker snickered into his flask as Joe let out an exaggerated cry of outrage.

“I know.” Nicky said. “However, I am the best possible choice for this. Boss, you would get too agitated and shoot the poor kid the second he tries to escape you. Booker is still young himself and Joe would do nothing but wax poems about me the whole time he has the kid. I can at least try to ease the kid into his new life while I bring him home.” He finishes, letting Andy digest his words.

“Okay fine,” She says, “To be honest, you were my first choice for this anyway.” She stands up and grabs her labrys. “Meet us back here when you find him. Now go get ready, Nicky. Don’t know how long you’ll be gone.”

“Understood,” Nicky says. He gets up, and heads back to the bedroom to start packing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout decides to try a little experiment and then freaks out. He then has more dreams that he can't decipher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dark. There is a small bit of dismemberment and blood. There is technically none of the Old Guard in this part as it only focuses on Scout this chapter. I'm not sure when Nicky and Scout are going to meet yet.

They hopped into Saxton Hale’s cargo plane one by one. Nobody had bothered grabbing anything from the crates being left behind. Well, Scout had grabbed a couple of things but, no one needed to know that.

Scout sat silently on a bench as far away from everyone as he could. He can see Medic and Heavy conversing in their native languages. For some reason, Scout and Sniper had rejoined the group, Medic was holding what looked like a baby monkey. The speedster didn’t know where the German had gotten the animal, nor did he want to know.

He could hear Demo, Soldier and Zhanna singing some random song loudly and off key. Scout didn’t look at them. He was afraid that if he looked at the Scotsman again, he’d start thinking about that man with the sad eyes.

Pyro was laying on their stomach in a corner, coloring on some paper that Miss Pauling had found for the arsonist. Scout had no idea where they had found the crayons or pencils. Miss Pauling and Spy were away from the others, quietly conversing over something without the others hearing.

Sniper was sitting not too far away from Scout. The Australian was sharpening his blade when Scout looked over at him. Seeing his best friend brought to Scout’s mind the image of the lovers that he had dreamed of. He knew they were in love. He could see it in the way the curly haired man looked at the slightly shorter man with the strong nose.

He doesn’t flinch this time. He just looks away and sighs. He’s not disgusted with the idea of two men in love. He’s just… sad and a little jealous. Just from that small glimpse of the two, he knew that the two were not ashamed of others knowing about them. Meanwhile, Scout had made up this elaborate mask by pretending to flirt with people that he has no interest in, so that people didn’t find out his secret. He knows that his mother and brothers know and accept him but he’s not with his family right now. He’s with a group of men that he really only knows as coworkers, and a father who hates his very existence. No. Best to keep his secret to himself.

He sighs and slips his hands into his pants pockets. He fingers the butterfly knife and pain killers that he had snatched up from the open crates. He feels eyes on him now, but he refuses to look for the source. No doubt it was Spy giving him death glares.

“Hudda hudda.”

“What?” He looks up and sees Pyro standing over him. The team’s arsonist, and the only other teammate that Scout considers a friend, ( Though, he’s not sure if Pyro is human because they never take off their gas mask). “Oh. Hi, Py.”

“Hudda hudda.” Pyro hands him a piece of paper filled with childlike scribbles. It was very obvious that the scribbles were supposed to resemble their team. Scout let out a small smile as he looked back up, “Thanks, Py.” He murmurs just loud enough for Pyro to hear.

The arsonist pats Scout’s back before wandering back to their little corner. Scout looked back down at the drawing, a small smile still on his face. He gently folds up the paper and puts it into his pocket.

His fingers brush gently against the butterfly knife.

Frowning, he pulls out the knife just enough for him to see it. Was he really going to do this? He looks up, eyes catching his teammates before looking down at the knife.  _ What if it was a fluke _ , he thought. He waved that thought away and stood up, if what he saw was just a fluke, he’ll just have a few more scars and a saner mind.

He heads for the small bathroom. Once inside, he closes and locks the door. He pulls out the pills and knife and places them on the sink. He stares at them, biting his lip as he tries to will himself to go back outside and forget everything. He should just go back and hang out with the others. Relax before people start to notice.

He grabs the butterfly knife and flips it open. It was exactly like the ones that Spy and the enemy’s spy were known to use. He starts to unwrap the bandages on his arm. Unlike the enemy Scout who only wrapped his hands, Scout always wrapped up to his elbows. He knew that it pissed off Medic but, it was either this or wear long sleeves in 80 degree weather.

The bandages unwrap, showing layer upon layer of old scars. He takes the butterfly knife and gently presses it to a part of his arm that is scar free. He hesitates only a second before he makes a tiny cut. He pulls the blade away, and stares at the wound. He’s starting to think that he lost his mind when the cut heals itself. No scar. Not even a scratch. It’s like it never happened.

He lets out a confused laugh and presses the blade into his arm again. This time, he makes the cut deeper and longer. Still, the cut heals itself the second he blinks. He makes three more cuts, each one bigger than the last. None of them stay for very long. He doesn’t know what’s happening but, next thing he knows, he’s stuffing a part of his shirt into his mouth and starts sawing through his pinky.

It hurts like hell. The second he finishes cutting his finger off, it falls to the ground with a wet splat. He’s starting to silently curse himself. There’s no way that he can explain the missing finger. He stares at his hand in dismay.

His pinky grows back right before his eyes.

He drops the knife and falls to the ground, wrapping his other arm around his leg as he stares at the one that he’s been cutting. His pinky didn’t reattach itself to his hand. No, he watched as a new pinky grew from the wound in his hand like a plant sprouting from the soil. The old pinky lays on the ground covered in blood. He lets out a hysterical laughter that turns into sobbing not too long after. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t know what is happening to him. People don’t just regrow limbs. It’s unnatural.

**Knock Knock**

“You alright in there, Gremlin?”

_ Sniper, _ Scout thought. He panicked, as he looked around the little bathroom and at himself. It looked like some sort of massacre had happened. Both he and the room were covered in blood. That also didn’t account for the severed pinky laying on the floor.  _ I can’t let him see this,  _ Scout thought.  _ I can’t let any of them see this _ . “I’m fine.” He yells, as he tries to rub the tears off his face. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He tears up some toilet paper and wraps it around the severed pinky. He throws it into the toilet and flushes it down, hoping that it won’t cause any issues in the aircraft’s plumbing.

“Are you sure, mate?” Sniper called from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” Scout yelled back. He grabs more toilet paper and wets it in the sink. He then takes it and starts wiping up the blood. “Yeah, my stomach is causing me issues. You don’t want to see. I think it’s from coming back to life and all that.”

“Are you sure?” Sniper didn’t sound convinced. “Because I didn’t have any issues when I came back, and neither did-”

Scout starts to make gagging noises, trying to make his lie sound believable as he cleans up the blood.

“Oh wow,” Sniper called. “Well, I’m not sure if we have anything that can help you right now. Do you want me to get someone?”

“NO!” Scout yelled. “He flushes the dirty toilet paper and grabs more, repeating the process. “I mean, no thanks. I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”

“If you say so.” Sniper says. “If you want, I’ll warn others not to bother you. Is that okay, mate?”

“Yeah.” Scout agrees, “Can you do that for me, Snipes?”

“Sure,” Sniper yells. Scout could hear the man gently tap on the bathroom door. “Feel better, mate.” Scout hears the other man walk away. He sighs, bowing his head in shame. He didn’t want to lie but, he wasn’t sure if the other man would understand what was happening to the speedster. Scout himself didn’t know what was happening to him.

He finishes cleaning up the mess and pockets the knife. Surprisingly, the amount of blood on his clothing wasn’t too bad. His fresh shirt was red already so he could probably pass the darker colors off by saying that he accidentally got the shirt wet. His pants were dark so the blood was almost unnoticeable. If he has to, he’ll say that he missed the toilet when he needed to throw up or he had a nosebleed. He’s not sure which he’ll use, or even if he will have to use one. He doubts that anyone would care.

He feels the bottle of pills in his other pocket but decides to save them for later. He’s already spent too much time in the bathroom and he didn’t want anyone to become suspicious of his activities. So, after making sure that he didn’t leave anything behind, he walks out of the bathroom.

All eyes turn to Scout the second he steps out. Surprisingly, all of his teammates looked at him with some concern. He ignored it though. He didn’t want some fake pity from people that could barely stand him on a good day. He sits back down on the bench and decides to sleep for a little bit.

Three of the strangers are sitting in a little kitchen. The woman, the sad eyed man, and the curly haired man, the last of whom he now realizes appears to be mid eastern. He’s not sure about the woman or the sad man. The man with the strong nose isn’t there. He can hear little snippets of conversation from the three. He’s not sure what all they said, be he hears names thrown around. Andy, Booker, Nicky, and Joe. He thinks the woman is Andy, and he can hear them say that ‘Nicky’ is gone, but he’s not sure who is Booker and who is Joe. Though, he has to question what parent named their kid Booker.

His dream changes. He sees the man with the strong nose watching the world go by from his seat on a train. This must be the ‘Nicky they were talking about. The man’s sea glass colored eyes reflect off the window and Scout couldn’t help but relax seeing them. ‘Nicky’ looks away from the window and pulls out a folded up napkin. He opens it up and stares at a perfect sketch of Scout’s face.

He’s back underwater now. The banging in the coffin is louder as the occupant screams her rage and frustrations. It’s dark. Too dark for Scout to get a good look, but something tells him that the occupant is female.She dies over and over and over. He doesn’t know how she keeps coming back to life but, he can feel her rage flow through him. She’s angry at the world for putting her there. She’s angry at her friends who seem to have left her there.

Scout wakes up with a scream. He hunches over and grips his head, his breaths uneven as he tries to calm down. How the hell did that man have a picture of his face? What was with the woman in the water? He didn’t know what was going on anymore but, he’s pretty sure that he’s going crazy.

“Ahem.”

Startled, he looks up, and sees almost everyone staring at him. Some, such as Heavy, looked at him in confusion. Other’s, like Spy, looked at him with irritation. Sniper looked at him with a look of concern. Demo was somehow conked out and snoring away. Every single one that was staring at him, looked like they were fighting off sleep.

Scout blanched. He woke them all up with his screams. God, he was such a bastard. He shakes his head and puts on the biggest grin that he can muster and laughs, “Sorry about that. Had a nightmare that baseball was canceled forever.”

Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes except for Pyro and Sniper. Sniper just stared at him, with a hard to read expression. Pyro.... well, Scout couldn’t read anything on them because of that mask. It didn’t matter though as everyone settled back down to sleep. Not willing to deal with the dreams, Scout just sits in his spot with his legs curled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them.

He spies the paper that Pyro was coloring on earlier. Looking around to make sure that everyone was asleep, he creeps off of the bench and sneaks his way over to the stationary. He grabs quite a few, and a wayward pencil. Sitting down, he starts drawing, trying to trace each line perfectly from what he had seen. When he’s finished, he had four drawings. One of each stranger that was in his dream. He didn’t draw the coffin’s inhabitant, as he couldn’t get a good glimpse of her.

He sits there, staring at each sketch. He tries to make the drawings as accurate as possible, from the kindness in ‘Nicky’s eyes, to the sadness in the blonde’s. It’s not perfect like the sketch on the napkin that ‘Nicky’ held, but it’s better than nothing.

He shakes his head and picks up the pictures.  _ It doesn’t matter,  _ he thought.  _ It's not like I’m ever going to meet them anyway _ . He folds them up and puts them into his pocket, next to the drawing that Pyro gave him and the bloody knife. He walks back to his seat, ready to wait out the rest of the flight to wherever they were going.

He doesn’t notice the eyes watching his every movement.

**Author's Note:**

> Bond Of Blood is not discontinued. I've just been obsessed with The Old Guard and have been thinking about this crossover between the movie/comic, and Team Fortress 2. I will post my other fic when I am able to focus on it. It may take time. ADHD makes it really hard to focus on one thing at a time for me.
> 
> Scout will be OOC because he's going to struggle with everything. I can't help but think that under all of that tough and immature exterior, he's probably a lost soul dealing with undiagnosed depression and possibly anxiety along with other issues that he may have. I can't help but see Nicky (Or all of the Old Guard) as a possible brother figure, for Scout to be able to relax and let down his walls.
> 
> I don't have a beta so let me know if something is wrong.


End file.
